


All Heaven in a Rage

by PepperPrints



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperPrints/pseuds/PepperPrints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post series. The defenses of Kiritsugu's house were simple and laughable. If anything, Kirei wondered if his arrival had been expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Heaven in a Rage

**Author's Note:**

> For 31_days. Prompt: Why waste time on the sparrow?
> 
> This is just a snapshot that didn't want to unfold into anything greater. I apologize for indulgent abuse of timelines out of convenience's sake.

The first sign had been the bird.

 

It happened when he was very young. The modest home that Kirei and his father had away from the church had large, spacious windows. One of Kirei's chores had been to keep them clean, and he did such a fine job of it that it was hard to believe there was any glass there at all – especially for the simple mind of an animal.

 

The sound of the impact had been what drew Kirei outside, and he found the bird on the grass beneath the window. It hadn't snapped its neck, but rather its wing, which now lay awkward and crooked at its side while the other fluttered wildly in attempt to get lift. Obviously, it failed, hopping about it strained, panicked bursts of desperation.

 

Kirei realized as he watched it that the bird would never fly again.

 

A bird without flight might as well have been dead. It was a cruel, pitiful existence, and it would be picked off by some predator in an instant should it wander too far away. It was miserable. Pathetic.

 

Kirei had turned away, and began to dig through the stones that made up the path lining around the house. Once he found one big enough, he picked it up, rolling it over between his hands to test its weight – and that was when his father came.

 

“Kirei?” he said, with that warm, kind voice raising just a little. “What are you doing?”

 

Kirei showed his father the bird, and Risei nodded along as Kirei explained what happened, frowning to himself.

 

“The poor creature,” he said with a heavy sigh, and to Kirei's surprise, his father bent and gently gathered the wounded animal in his hands, “but Kirei...”

 

Kirei lifted his head as he was addressed, and found his father staring down at him sternly.

 

“Why the stone, Kirei?”

 

Kirei was silent, but quite simply, it hadn't crossed his mind that the creature could be saved. It still wasn't, in end, but his father gave the futile effort regardless. His father should have known better. It was dying either way; it was practically dead already. Kirei did not understand the point.

 

Now, as he watched Emiya Kiritsugu, he might have grasped the concept.

 

Kiritsugu was dying. The curse of the Grail had gotten down into his very bones, and now it killed him slowly. Their rivalry had ended the night Kiritsugu turned away from him, but Kirei could not simply blot this man out of his mind forever. Kiritsugu changed, making himself this little home with the boy he saved from the ruin. He ran about, trying to fix the mistakes he made to no avail, and now he was on his last thread.

 

Kirei doubted that Kiritsugu told the boy; he doubted Kiritsugu even admitted it to himself.

 

The once powerful man now stayed huddled in his house, the way a sick animal seeks shelter for its grave. The boy tended to his adoptive father in blissful ignorance, since Kiritsugu hid his ailment well enough. It wasn't until tonight that the magnitude of that injury became vividly apparent.

 

The defenses of Kiritsugu's house were simple and laughable. If anything, Kirei wondered if his arrival had been expected. Kirei breached them with no trouble, finding Kiritsugu on the back steps of his house, watching the sky. The boy had left him tea before bidding his father good night, and Kiritsugu reached for his cup now, speaking out into the darkness.

 

“I know you're there.”

 

Kirei would have been insulted if Kiritsugu said anything otherwise. He came forward, approaching the back step, and Kiritsugu's weary face turned to him. Kirei could see his exhaustion, the bags in his eyes and the sunken cheeks. “Should I have asked for two cups?”

 

Kirei almost spoke, but he was cut short by the sound of shattering glass.

 

Kiritsugu had tried to lift his tea and failed, the cup slipping from his trembling hand and breaking on the ground beside him. His grip had failed him in even such a simple task. He did not posses the strength for that anymore, much less the strength to fight Kirei; the elusive magus killer was left crippled.

 

A bird with a broken wing.

 

Kiritsugu's eyes widened slightly, and he attempted to lift his unsteady hands. He could not raise them very high, and his fingers twitched uselessly when he tried. Realizing the futile effort, Kiritsugu sighed and dropped them to his lap, where the idle spasms continued. Kirei followed the motion, and he wanted to lash out and cut that shaking short, to end it – but not out of mercy. There was no mercy in him.

 

Then what?

 

_Why the stone, Kirei?_

 

Because it made him angry.

 

Emiya Kiritsugu was meant to be different; he was meant to be the man that challenged Kirei, that gave him a purpose, and now that had been denied. What could this man, crippled and dying, do to contest Kirei? It was insulting to have him here, to see him weakened and frail and so _accepting_ of that fate. Same as the bird, it was better that he die than never fly again.

 

It would be better if he had died that day in the ruin – and by Kirei's hands, rather than this humiliation.

 

“Are you pitying me?”

 

Kiritsugu's cool stare cut through Kirei, breaking his thoughts, and Kirei returned the gaze levelly.

 

“I feel no pity,” Kirei told him bluntly. “I feel nothing.”

 

Kiritsugu smirked faintly, and what he said was not what Kirei expected, even if the expression was hollow. “That must be pleasant.”

 

What?

 

Kirei's eyes widened a fraction. Kiritsugu was dying, and how much pain did he feel? This man who lost his dream, sacrificed his wife and child... how much agony did he endure? How much did he suffer? The idea of feeling nothing must have sounded like relief.

 

Kirei reached out and his hand closed tight around Kiritsugu's throat. He remembered the way the woman felt – the Grail vessel, Kiritsugu's wife – when he choked the last of her dwindling life out of her. She had been dying then too, as frail as weak as her widowed husband was now. Kiritsugu could not resist any more than she could. Kiritsugu tensed, but he did not jump when he was grabbed; he hardly seemed surprised at all.

 

Kiritsugu did not look frightened. He did not even look concerned.

 

“You are content to die like this?” Kirei asked, low and disbelieving.

 

Kiritsugu did not flinch. His dark eyes regarded Kirei calmly as he spoke. “Have you ever been content, Kotomine Kirei?” he countered.

 

The accusation gave Kirei no shock or offense. He was an empty man; he knew this. “Your death might inspire some reaction,” he threatened quietly, and he paused when Kiritsugu spoke again.

 

“You're welcome to try.”

 

For a moment, Kirei did nothing. He met Kiritsugu's cold eyes, his grip neither tightening or loosening around his throat. Kiritsugu was so frail; it would have been easy. He was dying either way; he was practically dead already.

 

Kirei slowly withdrew his hand. Kiritsugu let out a breath that was just a little strained, and managed enough control to lay trembling fingers against his throat. He gazed up at Kirei, his dark eyes full of suspicion but not surprise.

 

“No,” said Kirei lowly. “You'll die alone.” That was worse. Kirei would leave him here, with only his regrets for company.

 

Those cold eyes watched him impassively and there was no hesitation in Kiritsugu's response. “So will you,” he told him bluntly.

 

It was Kirei's turn to smile, the expression twisted and unpleasant.

 

“Yes. Until the very end, we are the same.”


End file.
